“Everyone has heard stories about powerful artifacts that can be found in ancient ruins. Many people lured by those legends lost their lives wandering through Arcane Wastelands, searching for something precious.

As adepts of the art, you might wonder why they threw their lives in vain. After all, engravements made into weapons and armours tend to slowly erode them, destroying them as the time passes.

It is a truth… and it is not.

There are metals and other materials that behave differently. Mana doesn’t destroy them. It will slowly seep inside, changing them. Day after day, year after year. They will grow harder, stronger, sharper.

Adamantine, dragon’s hides or bones are but examples.

Obtaining a raw material like those is an arduous task. Finding someone proficient in crafting it into a proper weapon is only a little easier. And then it needs to be covered with intricate runes, without an artificier fouling up all the earlier efforts.”

- Aethera University lecture

Ion was standing inside a temple.

“Uther teaches as to seek a light inside everyone, you know?” Lyssa said. “But I wonder, is there any light left inside you?”

As the priestess finished speaking, light radiating from the columns closest to Ion started to dim.

“If I had known how this unfolds, would I have still treated your wounds back then?”

Light continued to wane, only a handful of the pillars still glowing.

“You have chosen a path of death, hadn’t you?”

Ion could not see Lyssa any longer.

“But it was always your path.”

Where Lyssa stood before, a figure of a man appeared. He was bleeding from his wounds, most of his face covered with blisters, but Ion still recognised him. It was the priest they have killed inside Silverfords’ Vault.

“Vile necromancer, only the eternal punishment awaits you!”

Behind him, other apparitions materialised.

“Why? What have we done to you?” asked the guards they have wounded before fleeing the building.

They were only the first of many. All around him more silhouettes were constantly appearing, humans, elves, gnomes; various other humanoids. And not only; he could spot a few non-humanoids between them, even two dragon-like creatures were flying above him.

Some of the apparitions Ion recognised from his visions, many others he hadn’t.

In a wild cacophony of voices and languages, they shouted, reaching for him.

One of them touched him and he woke up in a bed, shivering.

Even after having drunk few mugs of beer, Ion had troubles sleeping that night. He wasn’t consciously feeling guilty for killing the priest and wounding the guards that tried to stop them. He understood that they wouldn't hesitate to kill them, yet the knowledge wasn’t stopping the victims from haunting him in the dreams tonight.

Out of the window, he noticed first rays of a dawn. Despite not feeling rested yet, not wanting to risk more nightmares today, he put his clothes on.

‘It’s not like I could use Evans’ robe anymore. Maybe I should order a new one from a tailor?’

For now, he has chosen his everyday clothes and the Cloak of Mirror Image, which he kept stored inside his Bag for a whole time they had been working for Silverfords.

He left the room heading to the inn’s common hall. Even if it was an early morning, some people were yet to finish drinking. However, the party was finally dying off, with many patrons were already dozing. Two particular caught Ion’s attention; Sae and Thaleus were still sitting by the table, alas they looked to have fallen asleep.

He paid for a breakfast and sat by their table. Sae immediately woke up.

“By the Abyss, you look like if you were drinking with us until the morning. Have you slept at all?”

“Barely. Had nightmares. Looking at you, drinking might have been a good idea, how can you look better than Thaleus after that many dwarven beers?”

Ion said, looking at the empty mugs around the table.

“It’s a secret.”

He picked up his sandwich, noticing that a one disappeared from his plate. He looked up and saw Sae happily munching it.

“Thaleus hadn’t noticed that I was swapping his empty mugs with mine,” she explained between bites, “Or maybe he had, but was glad anyway seeing them refilled. What are you planning to do, waking up this early?”

“Well, I have to send another letter to my father; I already told him to send an answer to Grasshaven, but he might start to worry when the pigeon he sends back remains unanswered for too long. I didn’t expect us to stay here for two weeks.”

Ion switched to using the Message afterwards.

“Are we going to return the manuscript today?”

“I think so.”

“Then we might as well prepare supplies and tomorrow morning we could start searching for Reria’s cult.”

The prospect of learning more about possession, maybe even witnessing a one, was enough for Ion to delay the journey to Cirran a bit.

“Actually, I believe it would be better for us to leave today. It’s not like I doubt the people recommended by Darmud and Orryn, but people like to boast. Even if they shouldn’t be able to recognise us nor know our motifs, the more people know about something the harder it is to keep a secret.”

They continued to eat.

“Also, don’t sell anything we have taken in Leisha.”

“I know, someone could recognise the items,” Ion nodded thinking about all the stuff he had stored inside the bag. “But I’m afraid that I will have to get rid of some of the junk I have stored in my bag, it’s getting full.”

Ion has noticed that the more items he was keeping inside, the more often he had to use the spell to maintain the energy of bag’s mana core on the same level. Judging by the current frequency, he couldn’t store much more inside without risking wearing it down quicker.

“Not my clothes!” Sae was agitated immediately.

“Then what? You said it yourself that trying to sell what we have stolen is out of the question. Maybe Darmud will be interested in the ores, getting rid of that would save some space for supplies. I planned to pack some inside my bag, it would make travelling more convenient. And hopefully faster too.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Worth a try. After all, he is a smith, there is never enough metals for them. Just leave my clothes alone!”

“Okay, but only for now. I’m going to send my letters; now that I think about it, I should write to the aunts. And friends too, I wonder if Ryan already managed to join the army. Try to wake up the rest by the time I return.”

Leaving the inn Ion could see Sae shaking Thaleus. The prospect of Ion throwing out her clothes surely motivated her.

There were already quite a few people on the streets. In between the townsfolk, numerous guards were on patrols. Ion had never seen that many, in Leisha nor in Windhelm.

He strolled, listening to agitated gossips.

Apparently, the events from the last night gave birth to many theories. Some claimed that Silverfords conspired with cultists, others were sure that they’ve been targeted by them. Many agreed that wizards fought inside the manor, but bickered whom they were supporting. There were concerns about a weapon that was apparently developed by Silverfords, which was supposedly stolen. The authorities denied those rumours and tried to calm citizens, pointing at the heads of the thieves spiked on the walls, claiming that they have caught the culprits.

Ion felt relieved not hearing anything suggesting a connection to his group. On the other hand, learning about the fate of those who failed their heist gave him chills. He really hadn’t considered possible consequences of the failure. Or, to be more precise, all the experiences from the visions were assuring him that he was far too powerful to fail at something so trivial. Yet, the same experiences were suggesting that fighting against the shadowdancer from the day before should have been easy. He seriously needed to work on his threat assessment. Base it on his abilities, not on abilities he experienced himself to have during his visions. An unsettling thought that subconsciously the difference wasn't clear to him.

After finding a correct building, Ion paid for the letters to be delivered. While sending them to Windhelm via pigeon won’t be a problem, the one he wished to send to his father would be sent only after a few days; postal griffon riders weren’t that numerous to deliver civilian messages every day into a war zone.

He met with the remaining members of his party, some looking better others worse, and they headed to ‘D&G armours’.

When Darmud saw them, he even offered his customer a discount just to get rid of him from the shop faster. He immediately closed the door and invited them to the backroom.

“Have you found it? I’ve already heard the rumours and expected the worst…”

“Sure we did!” Sae cheerfully said. “Here, take a look!”

Ion produced the manuscript from his bag.

“Marvellous!” Darmud exclaimed. “Now we can finally return to our work! I will make sure that Clan Mountainbeard learns what you did for us!”

Along with the gnome, the dwarf began sweeping through the book, forgetting about their guests.

“So this was the reason for all that mess?” Reria said, looking at Exi with a quizzical expression.

“Was it really worth it?” Ciros mumbled.

“Of course it was!” Thaleus sent him an angry glare.

“We did a right thing, hadn’t we?” Ion asked.

“But maybe the methods weren’t the best…” Dorian concluded.

The ranger sighed but remained silent.

“Great, our notes look intact,” Orryn finally looked up from the book. “Now, our work on Exi-3 will surely be easier!”

“Nice to hear it,” Ion spoke. “Maybe you’d like more ores for the next model? We happen to have quite a lot to sell.”

”I’ve been already considering utilising shells of m'antidaes for Exi-3 to prevent overheating and reduce the mass… but the ones breed in Grasshaven have them too soft to be used on anything but moving parts…” Darmud pondered.

“I find engraving the runes on them more difficult than on metal,” the gnome added.

“And I still have problems with forging them properly, so there is no point so far in bribing mercenaries to bring us shells of a wild variant. It's frowned to hunt them unless the giant bugs attack farmers. Should we delay trying them until Exi-4?”

“So are you interested in those metals or not?” Sae pressed. The fate of clothes she painstakingly collected throughout their stay in Leisha’s Crossroads was now being decided. She would not be able to take all of them if not inside Ion’s bag!

“Of course! No matter if we decide to build the next prototype from metal or shell, the ores would be useful. After all, we also have to produce regular items to have funds for our project! Show me what you’ve got…”

Ion removed all the raw metals they have stolen from Silverfords. Thaleus joined his clansmate in inspecting them. Sae was breathing with a relief.

“Eh, mostly copper, tin and iron... You, Riksians, aren’t picky ones…” the smith sighed.

“Well, as far as I know, we are mostly using ores that dwarves sell to us, so…” Ion started but was interrupted by the dwarf’s laugh.

“True! However, we are selling those only because your smiths aren’t good for anything else… Oh, take no offence boy. At least you are no longer using solely bronzes as those poor guys from Phenyth. They are strange ones indeed. With the amount of zincs they could dig from their mines, they should at least outfit their whole army in brass armours!"

“Only a dwarf could think that trying to fight in a brass armour is a reasonable idea,” Dorian shook his head.

“Still, after noticing the sword you have,” Darmud addressed the paladin, unperturbed by his remark, “I expected your group to bring me something better. You can’t fool an experienced smith’s eye, it’s mithril, isn’t it? May I see it?”

Dorian unsheathed his greatsword and passed it to the dwarf.

“That is a fine piece of craftsmanship,” Darmud held the weapon with reverence. “Who have made it?”

“I have no idea, we had it since forever. It was a family heirloom.”

“It’s a pity that its creator was forgotten,” the dwarf inspected the sword carefully for a while. “The blade is partially coated in mithril, probably to ease engraving on it… yet for the alloy used for the remaining part of the blade, I have no idea. Not adamantine, but something close, maybe an impure alloy? It is still in a good overall condition, but I’m afraid that without the attention of a wizard and a smith knowing how to work the metals it was made of, it might break within one, maybe two dozens of years. I’d recommend you to already start searching for them.”

“I know,” Dorian sighed, sheathing the sword returned by Darmud.

Ion knew that the paladin’s sword was a kind of artifact, but had no idea how old the blade was nor that it was made out of mithril and some other, probably also a quite rare alloy. He heard the stories about precious metals but never seen them with his own eyes. Well, maybe he could have seen some in visions, but their details were as often clouded as not.

After a while, they settled on the price, said goodbyes and left to gather supplies for travels.

Their work for Silverfords family, after covering the expenses on various additional herbs Ion needed for his alchemy, inks for wards, and most notably Sae’s explosives, has still yielded them around 80 gold in coins. Not counting some of the materials Ion still carried inside his Spatial Bag.

However, as they wandered through streets of Leisha’s Crossroads, buying supplies they deemed necessary for further travel, that savings slowly started to dwindle.

After discussing with Reria, they decided to buy spellscrolls for Protection from Evil; she also suggested searching for Banish, however not only they couldn’t find anyone selling it, they also doubted whether any of them could reliably learn a 4th circle spell.

With rumours about cults still around, even finding a spellscroll for Protection from Evil wasn’t easy… there were many scammers around, whose scrolls after a cursory inspection revealed that they weren’t working. When they finally found a shop run by an old apprentice of some wizard, he wanted them to pay 10 gold coins for even a single one…

Ion gritted his teeth, remembering seeing those scrolls sold in Rikse for about half of this price; he should have taken those to Leisha’s instead of potions…

After bargaining, they settled on 25 gold for all three that were available for sale.

Later, when they searched for a place to buy six horses, their prices inflated even more by war, the group was even forced to add a little from their previous earnings.

On the early afternoon, they rode out of the city, heading south.

“We are almost broke again!” Sae cried as they passed the gates.

****

The next day after Ion’s party left the city, the ritual was concluded and the graveyard has been hallowed.

Despite the efforts the authorities put into searching, no cultists were found in the city. Nor had the nobles any leads concerning the thieves encountered by Aya and Kyle, except for a few rumours about some people jumping through the estate’s wall. The days have passed and townsfolks really began to believe that the Cult of Horned Rat had clashed against Silverford family and failed.

During another hearing, Joseph Silverford denied any involvement with cultists, once again. Even if his words were doubted by clergy and nobles alike, testimonies of two runaway apprentices, Lara and Sten, about their time spent taught by Evans were deemed convincing.

The higher echelons of clergy disputed whether they should petition to Uther for an allowance to resurrect the dead wizard, yet concluded that as a necromancer, he shouldn’t be allowed to receive a gift like this. With no political force pushing for his resurrection nor any other church capable and willing to perform it, he was, along with Silverfords’ fallen soldiers, buried like a hero.

Among those knowing the real events behind the attack on the manor the aftermath has left a bad aftertaste, however years of experience in politics has prepared them for situations like this. Maybe with an exception of Emil Boeward, whose recent behaviour was widely believed to be another sign of an approaching downfall of his House… at least until his ambitious daughter succeeded in putting herself in control over the most of family.

Joseph Silverford himself was glad that the church hadn’t tried to resurrect nor talk with the dead wizard spirit. Not finding any traces of Melker, Rita nor Evans’ other apprentice, he started to doubt whether Evans had really died. With only the manual, some ores and books about history and magic disappearing from his vault, the noble was willing to believe that he was the one behind everything. He might have murdered the abjurer and made this look like he was killed by other burglars afterwards.

The edler has given Amanda one more task, entrusting her with breaking through the wards set up by Melker around his apartment, anticipating any magical items they might find inside.

After dealing with most immediate problems, having lost the manual, he wanted to ‘convince’ Darmud to work for him, but around that time news about an arrival of a one hundred strong contingent of dwarves started spreading through Leisha’s Crossroads, forcing him to rethink his plans.

Before the city managed to return to a semblance of normality, gossips about strange events unfolding around Crestfall village reached the town, followed by even more dreadful news from Grasshaven.

And it was only a beginning.